Demise
by Dr.Muraki
Summary: House is slipping faster and faster into a vortex of pain and depression. What horrible series of events will this lead to?
1. Chapter 1

**Reviews are kindly accepted! (this being my very first fan fiction) I'd say the overall rating would be T for mild language and blood…**

**Disclaimer: I did not create, nor do I own, any of the House characters.**

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**House sat idly in his office staring off into space. No new cases had come in lately, and the whole team felt a little antsy. Except for House. **

**He had fallen quieter and quieter as days past by. No snarky comments, dazed looks. And**_** lots**_** more Vicodin.**

**He popped the things absently like tictacs, and whole bottles emptied dramatically. Yet he was still wincing with pain when he thought no one was watching.**

**Wilson noticed first, of course.**

**He shot the man questioning looks whenever he encountered him. And House just looked at him. Unsettlingly blank. This worried Wilson more than any comment or frown ever could.**

**A rap at the glass startled House's head up. An almost lost look was on his face. It scared Wilson. This was **_**not**_** Gregory House's face. He opened the door warily.**

"**House," he stated simply. Dr. Feel Bad himself studied his friend for a moment.**

"**Wilson." He made to get up, then winced hard before slumping back in the chair. His face crumpled painfully. Wilson rushed forward.**

"**Are you alright?!" he demanded. House waved his hand away.**

"**Yeah, yeah." His eyes were still squeezed shut. Wilson put a hand on his shoulder anyways. A single blue eye opened and landed on it.**

"**You're not okay," Wilson said gently. Before, House would have rolled his eyes and said, "duh." Now, he just sighed.**

**It was probably the most frightening sound Wilson had ever heard escape House. Because it sounded tired…and resigned.**

"**It hurts," he responded in a voice tinged with a slight rattle. Wilson frowned.**

"**It's always hurt."**

"**More," House insisted, his wide open eyes bulging slightly. Wilson's brow creased further.**

"**You need to get checked."**

"**No." He shook his head slowly. Wilson almost growled. Still a stubborn bastard at heart. Practically asking for help, and then pushing it away.**

"**I know, I know, you think you're **_**fine**_**, nothing can happen to the **_**Almighty House**_**!!" he spat out the final words. **

**House's reaction surprised him. He chuckled lowly, wearily. But the sad humour gave way to a dangerous glower.**

"**I am fully aware that I am **_**not**_** FINE!!" He shouted the last word leaning forward, face contorted in rage and pain.**

**Wilson drew back. He had heard his friend yell before, but never with such hot anger.**

**House pushed himself up forcefully, despite a severe twitch in his face at the action. He seized his cane and hobbled out, slamming the door. He stomped best a cripple could down the hallway to the elevator.**

**By now, Chase, Cameron, Foreman, **_**and**_** Wilson were following him, confused and near dumb stricken.**

**House punched the down button repeatedly, annoyed at how very **_**slow**_** it was. Now Cameron was at his side, her cool fingers curling around the wrist that had been forcefully pushing for a way down, slowing it.**

"**Stop, House," she commanded in a stern voice. He looked at her. It wasn't a sneer of defiance, just an icy stare from cold blue eyes. Her own eyes widened at this, and she let go, taking a small step back.**

**That was all the time House needed to whirl around and head for the stairs. Quite rapidly for a man with a lame, pain stricken leg, in fact.**

**He made it across the hallway to the top stair in a manner of seconds. The other doctors made to move, but saw there was no need.**

**Cuddy was already there.**

"**Gregory House!" she thundered, and House turned, surprised, his back to the stairs.**

"**You will NOT stomp around my hospital, no matter **_**how**_** bad your leg hurts!!" she hissed savagely. It was House's turn to be intimidated.**

"**And you **_**will**_**," she continued, lashing her arm in the direction of Wilson, who cowered, "-go with Wilson, and you **_**will**_** be checked, and you **_**will**_** like it!" The last two words were whipped out with such force that House took a step back.**

**Bad move.**

**He stepped off the first step, and his foot found air. Losing his balance, House reeled slowly backwards.**

**Cuddy gasped, her eyes growing to the size of saucers before reaching forwards for House in a desperate attempt.**

**Which proved to be futile.**

**House fell back, and all the way across the hallway, Wilson could hear his friend's head crack sickeningly as it hit the stairs.**

**He toppled downward, gaining momentum. Thuds echoed off the walls and all Cuddy could do was watch, horrified.**

**At the end of the flight there was a metal rail, and House's head broke open on it **_**hard**_

**Deep crimson pooled around the doctor's head. It was a thick, huge puddle by the time Cuddy had managed to stumble down the stairs in a state of shock.**

**The little doctor voice inside her had known the moment House's head had struck that first stair.**

**Gregory House was dead.**

**de.mise**** n. a termination of existence; death**


	2. The End

I know that it was supposed to be finished, but House deserves this much...

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**The End**

It did not rain on the day of House's funeral, nor did a procession of people draped in black make their way along with his coffin.

Cuddy couldn't help but cry as the fall sunlight hit House's finally peaceful face. Chase held Cameron close, though neither of them cried, and Foreman stood aways apart and looked at his former boss's body with a mixture of different emotions.

Wilson's own face was a mask of stone. He gazed over at House with no expression. As the priest began his speech, Wilson cut in.

"He didn't believe in God," he said much to everyone's surprise. "In fact, he didn't believe in the afterlife either. This is stupid."

Everybody stared, dumbstruck, at the one person they had thought would benefit most from the funeral. Cuddy's tears stopped as she looked at him in incredulity.

"So what do you propose we _do_, Wilson?" She asked.

"If you really want to do something, burn him and save the ashes. I'm sure he'd enjoy that _very_ much. You could even wear them around your neck in a vial."

Chase began to laugh, and Foreman gave a rueful grin. The priest's jaw dropped at this sudden and unexpected turn of events. Cameron nodded her head reluctantly.

Cuddy looked at Wilson for a moment. "That sounds exactly like something he'd say," she finally admitted. Wilson nodded, still serious.

"If you want to say something now, say it," he said to everybody.

"You were a crappy man, a hateful person, and an awful human being," Foreman said to the corpse, surprising everyone once more. "But I learned a lot from you, so...thanks." He stepped back to his place.

This inspired Chase. "To be honest, I hated your guts."

"You treated us all like crap," Cameron added.

"You screwed over patients, you were crabby, hell you even tried to kill yourself by sticking that knife in the socket," Cuddy said with a small, sad laugh.

"To sum it all up," Wilson concluded, quite serious, "you were a bastard."

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, a grin split his face. "But you were also my friend."

He began to laugh, an odd, slightly hysterical giggle. Cuddy started to laugh as well, followed by the rest, even the priest.

"I know you said that you didn't find any afterlife, but... I hope that just that once you were lying," Wilson said after he'd regained his composure.

"For _my_ sake as much as yours...I hope you were lying."

Cameron and Chase lingered after the others left. Chase examined the tombstone. "What's up with the inscription?" he asked.

"Oh? Wilson wanted that put on it..." She too looked down at it.

"Poor guy," she said, looking over at the lonely figure still standing beneath an orange laden tree.

"I think he's waiting for us to leave so that he can say his final goodbye," Chase said, glancing over at Wilson who was staring into the distance at nothing. They nodded silently to each other and left.

Wilson watched them pull out of the parking lot and drive down the long and lonely back road til they disappeared. Only then did he walk down to House's newly covered grave. Kneeling down on the freshly turned soil, he rested his forehead down.

"Be happy, House," he whispered as a lone tear ran down his cheek and onto the grave. He got up and glanced one last time at the grave marker.

_Gregory House _

_Didn't give a damn when he was born, Cared even less that he died, never mind when. _

_May he dream the dreams of one who was __loved._

"Goodbye, Greg."

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That's it. For those of you who read Yami no Matsuei, Tsuzuki was the one who said the saying seen on the gravestone. I do not own any of that artist's works either.


End file.
